


Living with the Devil

by Million_Moments



Series: Harry verse [4]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hormones, Morning Sickness, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camille’s pregnancy is not exactly progressing the same as previously, and everyone is suffering for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living with the Devil

Richard had no qualms about admitting he had quite enjoyed Camille’s first pregnancy. He didn’t know if it was the hormones, or simply her own happiness at expecting, but she honest to God did actually glow. He regularly told her how she’d never been so beautiful, meaning it sincerely, but she’d come over all demure and tell him to stop embarrassing her. She was softer as well, and he didn’t mean from the baby weight. All of her hard edges were gone, there was no bickering and eye rolls were reserved only for his _most_ annoying behaviour. She’d always been tactile and affectionate, but during those forty weeks she had been nothing _but_ tactile and affectionate.

Now, he’d never had a problem with her feisty nature, it was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place. She’d dragged him into a hotel room on their first murder investigation and given him the dressing down of his life, and when he’d recovered from it he realised he _liked_ her confidence, even if it was in the form of insubordination. However, it was a relief to him that she no longer had to inclination to wind up suspected killers to see how they’d react, or play bad cop. He imagined that sort of stress would have been bad for the baby.

It didn’t affect their case closure rate. For some reason, criminals just confessed to her. Richard had privately concluded it was down to that glow, and that softness. There was something almost…divine about her. Perhaps those hardened killers were reminded of their own mothers, perhaps they just didn’t feel right sharing the same space with somebody who suddenly exuded so much goodness. Either way, on several occasions Camille’s gently questions had full confessions out of people before they ever had enough evidence to convict.

Then there was that wonderful couple of months he had even more fond memories of. He’d read in a book about how the hormones of the second trimester could affect a woman’s libido, but he hadn’t expected to be kept in bed for entire, very pleasant, weekends at a time. Richard had embraced it enthusiastically, he figured once the baby was born there opportunities for that sort of recreation would rapidly decrease.

Oh yes, all in all, the first pregnancy had been an absolute delight.

This one, not so much.

They were only five months in, and he was desperately wishing it to be over. It started when she was so early on she wasn’t even sure she was pregnant, but developed a near constant headache. In an attempt to cheer her up he’d gone and hunted down her favourite chocolate. Camille had opened the packet, got one whiff of it, and promptly been sick. Something that hadn’t really stopped since. Since he was the one who bought the chocolate, he was thus responsible for every incident of morning (afternoon, evening and midnight) sickness that occurred after that.

Now, anybody with a constant headache and nausea is bound to be a little grumpy, but Camille was downright terrifying. He felt like he was living with the devil, or at least some wildly unpredictable creature which longed to cause pain and misery. Perhaps it wasn’t her, perhaps she was expecting the Anti-Christ or something. All Richard knew was that he could do no right. Richard had to admit, some of insults she’d thrown at him as he gamely attempted to hold her hair back when she was ill were really very creative. Since she wasn’t demanding a divorce he decided Camille probably didn’t mean them _deep down_ , but he had to constantly reassure himself of that fact. But when he told her that he loved her, she would always say it back – sometimes with a little more aggression than one would expect.

The books (which he was re-reading since he’d barely needed them last time) told him only one in ten women continued to feel nauseous after week twenty. He’d counted down the days, half-heartedly hoping for some magical transformation to occur in which they went back to her old self, but that hope was in vain. She continued to suffer, and thus they _all_ continued to suffer. Because that was something else that was at least a little reassuring, her battle to resist the urge to murder Richard seemed to extend actually to all men. Dwayne, Fidel, random men in her mother’s bar and even once the Commissioner (who took it rather well, considering) had all taken a turn at being on her bad side. There was also no sign of her second trimester hormone changes would be leading to any more weekends in bed either, not when ‘I’ve got a headache’ had taken on a whole new meaning.

Camille did have more patience with Harry, at five he could hardly be grouped with the other men quite yet. But Harry could sense his mother’s distress. The two males of the house had bonded somewhat over there attempts to keep the woman happy. Harry had invented several games that seemed to involve being _as quiet as possible_ , stuck to healthy snacks rather than ask his mother permission for a chocolate bar (Since the mention of the word chocolate still caused Camille to be sick, Richard wouldn’t be surprised if poor Harry was put off the stuff for life) and would crawl into bed with his mother when she was laying down with a headache, offering her a cuddle to make her feel better. For these things Harry was receiving much praise from Camille, who was always very careful to control her temper around the boy, but Richard still got the impression Harry could sense the general change in atmosphere and was still wary of his mother.

The only person who seemed to be tolerated by Camille was her mother, who was full of sympathy having apparently suffered in a similar manner when expecting Camille. The two would sit at the kitchen table and complain about just about everything, including him, and Richard hadn’t failed to notice how Catherine seemed to especially enjoy that. When he’d, in a fit of desperation, asked Catherine if she could think of anything he could do to make things easier for Camille, the older woman had shaken her head and patted him on the shoulder.

“Take heart, Richard. I’m almost certain this must mean she’s expecting a girl!” She attempted to reassure him, but it was little comfort. She must have felt sorry for him though, as before she left she told him sincerely, “You’re doing a much better job than you think.”

If Catherine could see him now, she might revise that opinion. Richard had been chucked out of bed, as apparently he was giving off too much heat and preventing Camille from sleeping. He was pretty sure he was the same temperature he was every night, but given the fact Camille could easily smother him in his sleep he decided not to argue the point and retreated to the sofa. He was staring at the ceiling, mentally attempting to design the opposite of an electric blanket, when Harry stumbled into the front room bleary eyed and dazed. Spotting Richard on the sofa he staggered over, climbed up and lay on top of his father.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Richard asked, holding back a sigh.

“When will Mummy be back?” He asked, somewhat shyly.

“She’s in the bedroom Harry, but she’s asleep,” Richard was a little confused.

“No, not _that_ Mummy. That’s scary Mummy, when will normal Mummy be back? She made me pancakes yesterday but then scary Mummy came back.”

Richard shifted so he was sitting up, letting Harry stay sitting in his lap, “She’s not two different people, Harry. She just doesn’t feel very well at the moment. We have to be nice to Mummy and patient with her and…just nice, until the baby is born. Then she’ll feel much better.”

“Why is she mad at you?” Harry asked.

Richard frowned, “Why would you think she’d mad at me?”

“Because you have to sleep on the sofa. On the TV people have to sleep on the sofa when they are mad at each other,” Harry explained.

Richard very nearly jumped when Camille was the one who answered, “No my sweet boy, Mummy was feeling a bit unwell and thought she’d sleep better on her own. But she feels much better now, so Daddy is coming back to bed, and you should go back to yours, okay?”

Harry nodded, sharing a sleepy smile, and shuffled off back into his room - pausing to give his mother a somewhat sloppy kiss goodnight. Richard hoped he thought ‘normal’ Mummy was back. Richard _really_ hoped normal Camille was back as well.

However it seemed unlikely when she snapped, “Bedroom, _now._ ” He trailed after her, trying not to look too reluctant, and got a hell of a shock when just inside the bedroom she shoved him against the wall and kissed him hard. Richard concluded that perhaps her hormones were affecting her _that_ _way_ after all.

A prospect he found quite frankly terrifying. 


End file.
